221B Baker Street
by Inkheart Dreamer
Summary: So I decided to use a random generator to pick out some names and then my task is to write a piece of work involving the two names picked, the pairing can be friendship,hatred,love or whatever I feel like doing. These are the results.
1. Sherlock and Sally

Sally Donovan hated Sherlock Holmes. It wasn't a secret to anyone who knew the pair.

She hated his arrogant attitude and his need to always be right.

She hated the way he would get excited at the sign of a crime.

She hated the way Lestrade would hang on his every word as if it was gospel.

But most of all Sally Donovan hated the fact that Sherlock Holmes didn't care that she hated him at all.

You see Sally Donovan hadn't always hated Sherlock Holmes; no one can hate someone they have just met after all. The first time she had heard him speak was at a crime scene. Sally had been about to tell Lestrade her theory when the door had slammed open and there he stood, Sherlock Holmes. His hair had looked windswept and his coat collar turned up against the cold. Her first impression had been that of awe when he opened his mouth and deduction after deduction had been stated. It had been as if his words were playing an intricate melody of some form. The melody was so beautiful that Sally hadn't even realized she had lent forward until he as well as Lestrade were gone with a swish of his coat and a slam of the door.

That was when the jealousy had crept into her brain. The fact he hadn't even acknowledged her and instead brushed her aside as if an annoying fly before dragging Lestrade after him had caused red to cloud her mind. In that moment Sally decided that the next time they met she would prove she could be just as good as Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

Her anger only grew each time the two of them crossed paths, her ideas were constantly being being shot downing in a cruel and mocking way leaving her shaking with fury and embarrassment. It was after one of these moments when she met John.

Sally didn't see the man as his own person but instead as a tool she could use against Sherlock. He was her chance at hurting the dark haired man. She wanted Sherlock to see the doubt turned in his direction for once and feel the embarrassment and anger and John Watson could be her weapon."You know why he's here? He's not paid or anything. He likes it. He gets off on it. The weirder the crime, the more he gets off. And you know what? One day just showing up won't be enough. One day we'll be standing around a body and Sherlock Holmes will be the one that put it there."

It was true he wasn't paid, and it was true the weirder the crime the more excited Sherlock would get, and yes it was even true he didn't care about the bodies or victims. But despite all that Sally knew deep down that Sherlock could never harm anyone, yes he was cold, and yes he was emotionless, and yes he was sometimes mean but he was not downright evil. However any guilt she might have felt was lost when she saw John and Sherlock together at the next crime scene.

* * *

 **A Few Years Later**

Sally couldn't believe it what her mind was telling her; couldn't believe she might have been right all those years ago yet as she examined the small amount of evidence, the girls scream still echoing in her ears she couldn't help the small part of her that celebrated the fact that Sherlock Holmes was as ordinary as she was. As she looked at the items in front of her that small part inside her brain grew until Sally was certain she was right. Sherlock had actually done it. He had committed crime after crime under her nose, under the full division's nose, and yet no one had noticed. No one except her had even suspected while he had covered his tracks with mocking and insults to stop anyone getting close and noticing something was going on.

But she had suspected, she had noticed that it was all a game to the man, each crime committed had been a piece won for his side in an intricate game of chess.

But now he had lost…Sally had won.

" Sherlock Holmes, I'm arresting you on suspicion of abduction and kidnapping..."

Sally Donovan breathed a sigh of relief knowing everything was back as it should be.

* * *

 **A Few Days Later**

 _"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly. In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you. That I created Moriarty for my own purposes…."_

Sally had listened to it again, and again, it was classed as a confession. Proof that Sherlock had been a lie the full time, a made up creation. It was a proof that all his mysterious discoveries and miraculous solved cases were the result of acting done by a mad man rather than by an amazing detective. It was proof that Sally Donovan was not useless.

So why did she feel a lump of guilt settle in her stomach each time she noticed that his voice no longer flowed like a melody but had cracks and gaps, breaking on some words. Why, when she saw John, did it feel like a weight was bearing down on her shoulders? Why did she feel so wrong?

Anderson…Anderson, was losing it, his life had became devoted to Sherlock and only Sherlock, even when he was dead he was still putting Sally in second place. Anderson had never cared for Sherlock and now he was acting like they had been best friends, as if the mad man hadn't revealed her and Philips relationship to the whole world leading to rumors throughout the station as well as judgmental looks being aimed her way every day.

He said he didn't believe Sherlock had merely been following a script, couldn't believe she had fell for Moriarty's, Richard Brooks games, so Sally offered him one last chance, told Philip he was losing her and that she was planning to go if he didn't give up.

He dumped her like she was nothing.

* * *

 **2 Years Later**

Sherlock visited her. Of course by then Sally had already seen it on the news and in the papers, the urge to cry grew stronger and her guilt got heavier as each piece of proof was taken apart and replaced with the real evidence. She had ruined a man's life as well as those around him all because she didn't want to be second best.

The knock at the door had confused her, the sight that greeted her had scared her and his words had broken her.

He had said that he hadn't thought she could have gone so low as to try and destroy him all because of her feelings. He made her look at what she had done, to him and to John. He told her he didn't care about her opinion and never would…and then he left.

Sally Donovan hated Sherlock Holmes.

She hated his arrogant attitude and his need to always be right.

She hated the way he would get excited at the sign of a crime.

She hated the way Lestrade and then John listened to him completely.

But most of all Sally Donovan hated the fact that Sherlock Holmes didn't care that she hated him at all.


	2. Molly and John

**A month after The Fall**

John stood in front of the morgue doors readying himself for the upcoming conversation. It had been the same for weeks now, Molly would hide out at work or at home refusing to so much as reply to John's text, if not for Greg he would have assumed the pathologist had vanished off the face of the earth. This time he wasn't leaving without an answer as to why she was avoiding him. It was Lestrade who had told him where she would be and when. Unconsciously straightening his back the soldier marched through the swinging doors and into the lab and sure enough there was Molly working away, her long brown hair tied up in a messy ponytail,a few strands escaping in places.

"Do you...is this about Sherlock...or me?," The woman jumped an inch in the air at the sound of his voice dropping a pipette on to the floor before swinging round her face turning a sickly grey.

"John."

"I miss you, you know? I thought you were the only one who could really understand it all. But instead you're avoiding me and continuing on as if we had never been in your life! Do you even care he's gone?" John slammed his palms against the metal autopsy table ignoring the younger woman's squeak of fright. Molly reached out placing her hand upon his arm only for him to jerk away with a clenched jaw. "Don't. I just want to know why?"

Molly's eyes were darting from around the room before locking on his. "I just can't. I can't be around you, it's just to hard" The older man remained unmoved glaring at her. "I promised him something before he... Something I can't tell you…Please understand..."

John was already moving before the sentence had fully left her mouth; the slam of the door's not quite covering the noise of Molly calling his name. Watching his retreating back Molly sank to the floor. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

Molly hadn't know what she had been letting herself in for when she agreed to go down the road, when she had agreed to help Sherlock with his biggest trick yet. She hadn't imagined it would have been so hard to even just walk past John without blurting out everything.

The funeral had nearly broke her, while everyone else had been fixed on the empty coffin, her's had been fixed on the short man standing opposite, his face was so ancient and his eyes... oh his eyes, even through the rain she could see the tears that fell. She knew right then that she wouldn't be ab;e to do it, couldn't pretend that she didn't help cause him so much pain.

John had of course noticed her looking the paranoia of being watched having never quite faded, as harsh as it sounds the look of sadness upon her face cheered him up a little bit, gave him some relief. Seeing the tiny woman standing there under a small black umbrella as the man she adored was buried all John could think of was the fact he wasn't the only one feeling the way he did, Molly Hooper was in exactly the same position and maybe together they could survive whatever was heading their way.

* * *

John sorted out his thought as he left St Bart's after confronting Molly and one though stood out clearly, he was on his own once again. letting out a deep breath the man began to head for the taxi stand not noticing the slight hitch in his walk. He would be strong; yes everything was ruined right now but life would go on without Sherlock Holmes. It would have to.


End file.
